Beautiful Dynamite
by Crystal Allen
Summary: Set during 'Two To Tutor'. Senor Senior Senior doesn't regret hiring his son a villainous tutor... but he's beginning to fear that Shego will light a fire under Junior in more ways than one.


**Disclaimer: **Fred Astaire was once quoted as having called dance parter Cyd Charisse, _'Beautiful Dynamite'_, so all credit for the title is due to them. And of course, I do not own Kim Possible.

* * *

He was still a little new to this _villainy _thing, true enough. One did not leap from good to evil overnight – although he had tried. No, it took thought. It took time. It took guile. The charm and pleasure of being called a villain – a supervillain, even, and how flattering – had lost none of its shine. Such an improvement from being labeled 'eccentric', which always felt a bit like an insult.

But he was puzzled.

There seemed to him a great shortage of both charm and pleasure among his fellow criminals. His own life had been so rich, so vivid. How he had enjoyed himself through youth, through middle-age! Of course, he had not been evil then. It had never occurred to him to be evil, but if it had, why… what marvelous diabolical fun it might have been. But no one nowadays who called himself a villain seemed to be enjoying much of anything.

Where, for heaven's sake, were their manners? Where was their style, their subtlety, their love of the crime? Señor Senior Senior often had the feeling that he hadn't so much missed the bandwagon as the _point_. If not for fun, why bother being evil at all?

Where were the lady-killers: suave, sharp, irresistible; where were the femme fatales: beautiful, deceptive, deadly? Surely there was no need for villainy to be graceless or vulgar. _Art, _that's what today's villains were missing. Perhaps the grace and grandeur of being wicked was only a picture Señor Senior had painted for himself. What a discouraging notion.

Well, no matter. He would be his own kind of villain. He would be the kind of villain he would have been if he were still young and dashing and full of mischief; a gleam of high spirits in his white smile, every decision the right one, every scheme full of class. Señor Senior Senior felt as sharply dressed in evil as he did in top hat and tails.

It was Junior who had him worried. 'Teen Pop Singing Sensation', indeed. The boy had no vision. No malice, no focus, no _drive. _And terrible taste in music. But perhaps… perhaps Junior lacked the self-assurance that could only be taught through experience… and perhaps Señor Senior couldn't provide what his son sorely needed. The thought tugged at his heart; he had always given his son everything. So, somehow, he would give him this, too.

But he would need help doing it.

* * *

The new tutor was much more attractive than he expected her to be, but she was also abrupt and demanding; very modern, very slangy, very rough around the edges.

She seemed openly amused, almost scornful of his courtly welcome and introduction. Señor Senior was not shaken by this. There was no need to impress her if she did not wish to be impressed. He was not ashamed of his old-fashioned ways. He preferred them to hers, which showed a blatant lack of courtesy.

But she was exactly what he needed. She was a supervillain – and _how. _

"Junior is an easily distracted and inattentive student," he warned her. "Do not feel the need to go easy on him."

Shego assured him with a prideful grin that she never went easy on anyone. Ever.

He was still a little new to this _villainy _thing, true enough, but Señor Senior Senior had seen his share of lovely and dangerous young women. _This _young lady could have taken them all. What confidence! What presence! What a _figure. _

And goodness gracious, what a mess she would make out of Junior if Señor Senior wasn't careful. The roughness so apparent in Shego's nature did not translate to her looks. She had a classically villainous appeal and an arrestingly attractive face, and it was evident that she knew it. Yet she was not coy or coquettish. Her sly mind and domineering ways contrasted fascinatingly with her image. His son had no experience with any woman like Shego. He would be blindsided. He would be helpless. And yet… Junior, smitten? Junior, heartbroken? Señor Senior couldn't imagine it. Junior was a child, and so scatterbrained that he would still be a child long after he was grown. Señor Senior reasoned wisely that such worries of danger were needless. For now.

All the same, he would keep an eye on Shego as long as she was keeping company with his son.

* * *

It was a continuing source of enjoyment to Señor Senior Senior to surround himself with people, whether family or guests, and to surround such friends with fine things. His beautiful Island, inclusive and unrestricted; his beautiful house with airy, high-ceilinged rooms full of sunlight, the nicest furniture, the largest, softest beds. Good food, good conversation… and, recently, a pleasing atmosphere of wickedness.

Shego, though not precisely impolite, per say, managed to make it clear that she was already well used to fine things, that she expected no less than the best from anyone, and was more than able to find and secure the best for herself. He supposed it was a desirable trait in a tutor, and she was not, as promised, giving Junior any breaks. But his worries continued to increase.

She and his son had gone thieving in some of the most romantic cities in Europe, returning home elated, and with an ever-growing camaraderie between the two of them. At home, she stressed strongly and continuously… almost rudely… their need for complete privacy. She and Junior were always alone together…which student and teacher should be, certainly, but… what, specifically, was Junior learning from this woman? His confidence was growing, his moods were brightening, and he was more and more reluctant to spare his father even a 'Good morning', or 'Good evening', so occupied was he by his tutor.

He was, Señor Senior acknowledged, more inclined to think for himself since this new evil education began. But did that mean that he could no longer enjoy a casual conversation or evil laugh with his father? Perhaps it did. Perhaps to become a properly villainous adult, Junior had to grow apart from Señor Senior.

How disheartening that sounded, and how lonely.

But the question remained, was Junior becoming the _right_ kind of villain? Would he become the young villain that his father would have been? Or would he be like these new unhappy villains of the day, classless and untraditional? The answer, Señor Senior knew, lay with Shego. And he was increasingly suspicious of and displeased with Shego.

He would not let her take his son from him. He did not want Junior to turn into someone like Shego, villainous as she was. He did not want to watch his son become brusque, unrefined… _ill-mannered. _But he might be too late to prevent it.

If only Shego were not so perfect at what she did, he would have some excuse for turning her away. But she was beyond reproach. She was so honestly, wonderfully bad. No one had had to teach this young lady to be evil… she could never have been anything else. So natural, so effortless… and she always, Señor Senior could tell, enjoyed her evil ways as a true villain should. Yet she, like Junior, was young. Younger than she felt, probably. There were many things that she could not possibly teach Junior; she had not had time to learn them, for all that she spoke of 'experience'.

But he must be overreacting. Señor Senior did not _truly_ think that Junior would lose his heart to his this devious young woman. He was only a child; he did not yet know his own mind.

Or did he? On second thought, would it be so terrible if Junior were to have his first romance? Of course, it would only end in disaster; for Shego, he felt certain, had no real designs on his young son. But she would find it entertaining, perhaps, if Junior were to lay his heart – and fortune - at her feet. She might try to make him do just that, if she thought she could. It was a cold and manipulative thing to do. It was exactly how a villainess would act.

"Junior," Señor Senior Senior sighed to himself, having been escorted yet again from the practice room, "I leave this to you… and I wish you luck."

* * *

Señor Senior had not met Junior's mother until after he had passed the fifty year mark a comfortable and well-content bachelor. She had been nearly two decades younger than himself, and he had never expected to outlive her. Junior did not remember her very well, but Señor Senior thought of her all the time.

She had been so bold, so intrepid, so enchanting, with dark burgundy lips and deep brown eyes… and she, Señor Senior was sure, would have made the most bewitching villainess.

Could Junior, he wondered, ever find a wonderful partner like that? Someone to laugh with for evil or for good, someone to flee with when their crime-fighting nemesis got the upper hand?

But Junior knew nothing about such things.

And when he appeared before the 'great heist' in a black and green costume just like Shego's… it was then that Señor Senior knew he had to draw the line, unrequited love or no unrequited love.

In an ideal situation, he would not have wished for the involvement of his nemesis, Kim Possible, or her ever-loyal sidekick, Ron Stoppable. But it could not have been helped, and though messy, it did turn the tables in his favor. And, he admitted, he did feel an underhanded delight at having so sneakily thwarted his son's clever tutor.

He maneuvered to put himself in the pilot's seat of the helicopter which would take Shego and his son to, presumably, prison… but he knew for a fact that Shego had already contacted her permanent employer days before, in case of emergency – or more likely, because she sensed that her work with her pupil was finished, no matter which way the 'great heist' went.

Señor Senior Senior was pleased to have caught both of them by such utter surprise. Shego's wide eyes and shocked face were especially satisfying. More satisfying still were the words he had longed to say for quite some time.

"Young lady, we will no longer be in need of your services."

He tossed her the key to her handcuffs so that she would know there were no hard feelings, meaning to give her the gracious sendoff and paycheck she was due when they arrived home to the Island. She had, when all was said and done, taught his son many useful things, and she would not go unrewarded.

But Shego was no ordinary young woman, and he should have known better. She freed herself with her same prideful smile, told him he could have it his way, '_Pops,' _ and jumped – right out the door and right to safety, flying alongside Dr. Drakken, who had come for her as she had requested. It dawned on Señor Senior then that Shego never would have stayed away from her employer for too long.

She remained for a moment beside the helicopter, her hair rippling behind her like a veil, pitch black against her white skin, and blew Junior a kiss… and then she was gone.

"You changed my life!" Junior declared. "I will never forget you!"

Junior's expression was wistful… but only because he was caught up in the moment. Señor Senior Senior felt remarkably relieved.

But slightly disappointed, as well.

There would be no compelling romance, then. No sensational, heartbreaking grand finale to close the show. But that was all right. Not all endings were emotional or meaningful. Some were disorganized, incomplete. This ending was incomplete – but it fit.

He spent no worries on Shego. If ever a girl knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it, it was that one. He did not blame the mad scientist for wanting to hold onto her… but he most certainly did not envy him the handful, either.

What a girl. Stunning and unpredictable, as hot-tempered and cold-blooded as a snake. Just like a villainess should be.

She hadn't been right for Junior, though. Junior could not handle dynamite. Not yet.

Señor Senior Senior wished Shego all the best… and hoped, as he laughed to himself, that the good doctor could take the explosion.


End file.
